


An Exercise in Angst

by dreaming_gold



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_gold/pseuds/dreaming_gold
Summary: Mark loves Jack.Jack doesn't love Mark.(Rated for swearing.)
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	An Exercise in Angst

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually started writing this to break my terrible writer's block, which is why the writing gets kind of... flowery on occasion? I don't know, I'm an angst hound, and writing something depressing usually gets the creative juices going again.  
> Sometimes.  
> Anyway, turned out okay so I thought I'd share.  
> This was written 100% on my phone so there may be some weird autocorrects that I missed, though I put in effort to catch most!

Jack was the type of friend you could always count on. He was the one who'd show up on your doorstep at 3am if you needed him; the one who'd sacrifice his Saturday to help you move or drop everything to comfort you when you had a bad day. He was the first one you called when you needed a shoulder to cry on and the last one you ever wanted to hurt.  
In short, Jack was too fucking preciously perfect.  
Even his flaws, which he would be the first to point out, weren't that bad. So what if he tended to be over excitable? Or if he had a habit of overthinking himself? Actually, those qualities made him all the more human, all the more relatable.  
Or maybe Mark just looked at the little Irishman through rose colored lenses.  
"Mark."  
"Mm?"  
"You okay? I think yer about to rub a bald spot on Chica's head."  
"Oh." Mark looked down at the obedient pup sat happily in between his legs. She looked up at him adoringly, his hands full of her golden retriever ears. Damn, he must've gotten lost in his head again. "I'm good. She just needed some lovin', right girl?"  
Chica panted softly, nuzzling his right hand until he absently started moving it again.  
"Well, I think yer love's about to start to hurt."  
"No kidding." The words slipped out under his breath.  
"Hm?"  
"Nothing, sorry. So, uh, how goes the setup?"  
"Damn thing still isn't turning on," Jack sighed. He'd been fiddling with a malfunctioning light sat on top of Mark's desk for what felt like hours. It was dangerous, this quiet time. It gave Mark too much time to stare at his back and ponder. And pondering wasn't good when he was alone with Jack. "Changed the bulb, checked the power cable… not sure what else it could be. Have ya got any spares?"  
"Somewhere in the closet, I think. Hang tight, I'll dig one up." Mark shooed away the disappointed dog and dragged himself out of his chair. His throat felt tight. The air was heavy. And yet… Jack seemed fine. Everything was fine and yet he felt the world on his shoulders as he began to rummage for a spare light. It was half hearted; he needed to not look at Jack, not think about Jack, just for a few moments, just to try and be normal. He needed to regain himself. If he had known seeing him in person was going to be this hard, he never would've invited him over to collab. But he had to make it work, had to fight the pull.  
"It's been a bit since we've been in the same room. I've been so excited to be back on this side of the pond." Damn him. Of course Jack couldn't just let them be silent. He had to be pleasant, had to be friendly, had to be… perfect.  
Mark grimaced into the semi darkness of the closet. "Sure has," he replied, hoping his tone didn't come off too clipped.  
"I'm not even sure what we should record first!" If Jack had noticed, he didn't let on. "Something simple? You, Bob, and Wade seemed to be having fun playing Raft, maybe you and I could try it out? I think my laptop will run it okay."  
"Sure," Mark mumbled, purposefully moving his hands even slower over the assorted electronics in his closet. The light he was looking for was glaringly obvious, but he ignored it. He needed to be away, to inhale air not tinged with Jack's scent, occupy space not permeated by Jack's presence. "Already have it set up?"  
"Yeah, I tried it out on my own a bit. Not as much fun alone, ya know?" Jack chattered away, booting up the computer in his lap. "Any luck with findin' that light?"  
Mark let out a soft sigh; he couldn't stall anymore. He pulled a new ring light from the closet, disentangling the cord deftly. He hoped Jack wouldn't notice the final deep breaths of stale closet air he swallowed down as he dragged himself back to the desk.  
He moved the malfunctioning light out of view of the camera and unfurled the power cord… then stopped. The outlet was little more than a few centimeters from Jack's knee. That close, he'd be able to feel Jack's body heat, and the thought sent goosebumps down his arms. No, he couldn't risk the temptation to touch.  
"Um, Sean?" His voice was more unsteady than he'd meant it to be.  
"Uh-huh?" Jack looked up at him with those startlingly blue eyes, and Mark nearly choked.  
"The, uh, the cord…" He motioned helplessly with the cable at the outlet in the wall. He felt out of breath and shaky, like someone had just punched the wind out of him. Those eyes were kryptonite, and if he stared at them any longer he would break into an incoherent mess.  
"Oh, yeah man, I got it!"  
Mark had only meant for Jack to move, to scoot his chair back just enough for him to reach the plug. But stupid Jack. Stupid, stupid Jack, always so eager to help, to act instead of letting others do the work, took the cable from his hand. Their fingers brushed only slightly, like a soft breeze, but Mark was pretty sure he could've powered the light himself with all the sparks that seemed to explode beneath his skin. He let go and dropped into his own chair so fast the world tilted slightly askew for a few seconds.  
"There we go!" Jack had plugged in the light and flicked the on switch, and white illumination washed over them. Mark turned his face to the floor. He'd go mad if he had the chance to study Jack even more.  
"Let's get started," Mark forced out, voice cracking. He grabbed his mouse more forcefully than he had meant to, and the plastic crackled in protest as he started up the game.  
"Hey man…" Jack was staring at him. He could see it from the corner of his eye. "Are ya feelin' okay? Yer a little read, and your voice is crackin'."  
Now or never, Mark thought. It was now or never that he tested his acting skills. He stuffed his boiling feelings down and slowly turned to face his friend, the smallest of smiles on his face. "Just a little warm in here. Chica's panting too." The dog let out a quiet huff from her bed, and Mark quickly wheeled back to the monitor, praying Jack missed his eyes watering. "Let's just play, it'll cool off in a bit when the AC kicks in."  
"If ya say so," Jack shrugged, looking less than convinced but even less inclined to argue. "You hosting or me?"

\---

Jack shook his head as he exited the game just a few hours later. It hadn't gone well.  
"There's no way we'll be able ta use that footage without some serious editing. You were nearly silent the whole damn time, so now I know somethin's wrong. Time ta fess up, Markimoo." The lid of Jack's laptop clicked shut, and he turned his chair to give Mark his full attention. "You can talk ta me, you know that. "  
No. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Mark suddenly felt like a trapped animal backed into a corner. There was no place to go, no facade to hide behind, nothing he could do when Jack looked at him so earnestly, so full of concern and care. He felt his head trembling as he fought hyperventilation. His lips twitched, desperately trying to hold back a scream of frustration. He needed to hide this feeling, this ugly, twisted emotion that had infected his very being and threatened to ruin the friendship he had so carefully built with the little Irishman.  
He had to try.  
The laugh that finally slipped out was near hysterical, high and wheezing. He couldn't look Jack straight in the eye, so he settled for starting at the wall behind him. "I told you, I'm fine! Just a little warm!"  
"Are ya runnin' a fever?" Before he could stop him, Jack pressed a hand to Mark's forehead. Mark gasped. Loudly. His own hand shot up and jerked Jack's away.  
"Please…" he whispered, eyes slipping closed so he didn't have to look at his companion anymore. "Don't."  
"Mark, I…" Jack sounded so hurt. "Jus'...tell me what's wrong. I want ta help."  
Mark chuckled again, this time deep in his chest and wracked with an agony Jack couldn't understand. "Sean, I can't. There are some things we can't talk about. We _can't_."  
"I don't accept that, damn it!" A hand gripped Mark's shoulder tightly, and the knowledge of whose hand it was gave him the tingles. "Tell me what's wrong!"  
Something snapped in Mark's head. Some sort of dam that dutifully held back his seething feelings split right down the middle, and his thoughts washed away. Anything logical that could have stopped him drowned in the raging rapids of his absolute _need_. After holding back so long, it was no longer want, but need.  
He reached for Jack, his eyes shooting open to drink in the sight of his face, his eyes, his hair, his slender neck, his elegant fingers and pale skin and pretty lips and he had to have them. He caught Jack's check in one hand and pulled him close.  
"What the-"  
It was all Jack managed to get out before their lips met, and Mark felt everything pour out of him. Every tear filled night spent alone, every phone conversation filled with desire, every text crammed full of wanting, all if it, poured into that kiss. Jack's eyes were still wide open as Mark's closed. He couldn't help it. It was everything he'd needed, everything he'd dreamed of, and he was melting. It was the most precious moment of his life, so soft, so warm, so full of _Sean_.  
His lips almost ached as he pulled back just to ghost them over Jack's cheek. "Sean…" he whispered in the smallest, most choked voice that had ever escaped him. "I love you."  
And then he pulled away, knowing he'd over stayed his welcome. Jack had not even twitched during their kiss, had not invited him further in, had not moved to cup his cheek or encircle his back. It was as he'd expected; his feelings were his alone.  
" _Oh,_ " Jack muttered, and Mark finally gained the courage to open his eyes. Pink was blooming across Jack's cheeks, and his big blue eyes watered, staring back at Mark. "Oh, Mark, I... I'm so sorry, I-"  
"I know." Mark cut him off. This time, he couldn't hold back the tears, and they rolled unfettered down his face even as he smiled. "You don't have to say it."  
"I'm so sorry, I… I never realized…" Jack stuttered his words. He made a move to reach for Mark's shoulder again, but shook his head and withdrew.  
Mark shook his head. "There was nothing you could have done even if you had known."  
"How long…?"  
"Does it matter?" Mark laughed that low, agonizing laugh again.  
"I guess not…"  
They sat in silence for several minutes, neither knowing what to say.  
"I…" Jack finally broke the silence. "I should go. I.. don't want to hurt ya anymore…"  
Mark's mouth went dry. He wanted to protest, insist Jack stay, beg him not to leave, but he knew. He knew what had to happen. "I think that would be best."  
Jack nodded, slowly putting his laptop away. Everything he did was painfully slow, like his limbs were weighed down. Standing from his chair felt like lifting 500 pounds, and walking to the door like wading through quicksand.  
He stopped as the door swung open, looking at Mark over his shoulder. "You know I'll always be yer friend, though, right?"  
"Yeah," Mark answered back, a gentle smile on his lips. "Yeah, I do."  
And that hurt worse than Jack not loving him back.  
The door shut with a quiet click.  
And Mark was alone.


End file.
